In Questions (Part 2)

In Questions (Part 2)

Beautiful, is such a lousy way to describe me; Ijeoma Umebinyuo

(If you haven;t read the first part of this, click here)

“…But because words remain unchanged; feeding the broken hearts, calming the racing hearts, and unveiling the darkness within, here are a few questions I am taking time to answer…”

1. How often do you read/write?

Since quarantine, I have been struggling with reading. Why? I have no idea. Maybe I have grown lazy. Maybe I have lost the intrigue that drives me into books. Maybe I have lost the quest for stories, because the more I dig, the more I realize just how much baggage the world carries, and it weighs heavily on me.

Recently, it occurred to me that maybe I am not reading as much because I no longer have anything I am running away from. I am not allowing anyone to bother me. I am not chasing things out of my reach. I am not filling my head with too much clutter that only reading can clean. I am not running away from my being; my emotions and myself.

I am in a clear space; with clarity of mind.

I have read only two books since quarantine, Ghana Must Go, and The Boy who Harnessed the Wind, both because they were books of the month in my book club, and those people can undress you with words if you fail to read the book.

Writing frequency? Daily. More than two thousand words on a daily. I cannot help it. If I stop, I go broke, and none of you will pick my calls.

2. What Inspires you to write?

Being broke…haha. As I said, if I stop writing, I go broke. Then I will have to struggle. Then ask for help. Then live each day at a time, wondering who is going behind my back to say, ’aki imagine hana kakitu. Na the way she looks good on social media.'

But mainly, I write because it is my only road to freedom and peace of mind. I write because my words speak to me, for me, and about me. I write because documenting this life is not interesting, so we make it interesting through our words.

I write because my words are my source of solace.

3. What is your deepest fear?

Not living up to my own expectations. Trying too hard. Forgiving too much. Caring too much. Reaching out too early. Reaching out too late. Choices. Not laughing out loud when I can.

Top of it all; my survival and existence depending on someone else. Why? Because I suck at asking for help. I will die a thousand times on the inside before I can ask for help, not unless we are super close, and I know you have trained your mouth to remain shut.

4. The one book you so much love

Yesterday, I Cried by Iyanla Vanzant.

Ah, it pains me that I read it in soft copy, and I still haven’t come across its hard copy.

I know that if I do, I will treat it like my child. Like a mother, whose advice I constantly need. Like a pillow where I need to constantly shed my tears. Like a lullaby, soothing me to sleep any time I am overwhelmed. Like a guideline, every time I have fallen too much and I am looking for reasons to get up.

Like the sun, every time I need to be reminded of the fire within me.

My friend, Beverly, says Iyanla is the mother of healing. I agree, because the book took me to depths of mistakes and highs of forgiveness, entirely by self. I have never been the same, inwards, ever since I read it.

Highly recommend, if you are like me.

5. Would you want to co-author a short story with someone else?

Hard question, because every writer has a different voice. I write differently. I do not have big words. I tend to think I do not over describe. I do not write happy tales unless I am describing someone I love. Even then, I will have to dot it with sadness here and there so that my heart can be at peace.

Therefore, I would not really write the same story with another person, but I would write a collection of short stories with other person. Just that everyone gets to write their own stories.

6. They are auctioning everything in your house, apart from just two things that you choose. What would these be?

I am a super hoarder. I find it very hard to let go of things in my possession, whether spoilt or still in use. Damn, it pains me to give out things, let alone throw in the dumpster. I would rather, if I like you to that extent, buy you your own.

Sometime last year, a close friend of mine came to my place and while going through my wardrobe, made away with a couple of my dresses and a pair of shoes. Daaaaamn. I do not know how I managed to sleep that night with the numerous needles that were piercing my heart.

Truth is, she looks waaaay better in the dresses than I used to, but I haven’t gotten over the fact that I gave them out.

I have a laptop that has been dead for the past two years. I have shoes that are completely written off. I have trousers that no longer fit. I have my calculator from high school. I have my blue bucket from first year in campus. Shit, if I rid my house of all the things I do not use, there would be an echo every time I speak.

So, if it comes to auctioning and I have to pick just one thing, it would be my hair’s coconut oil. And my phone. And my laptop because it belongs to my person. And the small artwork on my wall. Wait, my boooooooks.

Clearly, I cannot pick a single thing. So I am not being auctioned any time soon.

7. What good thing has happened to you in the course of this week?

Drum rolls, pleeeeeeease. This is a biiiig one. If you do not like me, you have to stop reading the blog at this point, because you are not prepared, even an ounce, for what is coming next.

I officially weigh 52.7kgs. Yaaaaaay. It is happening. Finally. I am tempted to say I have been waiting for this with abated breath.

For someone who has been stuck at 48kgs since years ago, I almost did a victory dance when I stepped on the weighing scale yesterday. Wueh.

For some one who always thought the only time I would hit 50kgs is in case I was pregnant, and even then, the child will have to be super overweight.

Way back in campus, it was shameful to stand on a weighing scale in public without risking someone shouting ‘yaani hata bag ya cement ni mzito kukushinda’. Wueh, human beings are so crude. So what did we do, two of us stood on the scale, then divided the reading by two.

Dumb, right? No, a girl has to protect their ego.

8. What’s do you notice first in a person?

Their finger nails. Ah, I always find it hard keeping a conversation going with people who have ugly fingernails. I keep fidgeting, wanting to ask them how they manage to live with them. Is there anything I can do to help? Buy them gloves, maybe? No. None of my business.

9. You are dying. What last words would you have?

Everything good will come.❤

Questions courtesy; Beverly and Kasaine.❤

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Congratulations for weighing 52.7 kgs. Umenishinda ata🤣😂👏👏👏
All thanks to Covid19.
Also, Keep Doing what you do best. We love you❤️

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Danny Stumah

just read number 8 and I think MOH should make gloves compulsory too.

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Meet Eunniah Mbabazi
Eunniah Mbabazi is an Electrical and Electronic Engineer with a deep passion for books and literature. She has authored Breaking Down (a collection of short stories), If My Bones Could Speak (a poetry collection), The Unbirthed Souls (a collection of short stories), and My Heart Sings, Sometimes (a poetry collection). She has also co-authored Kas Kazi (a novel) and When a Stranger Called (an anthology of short stories).

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